i have a handful of gripes about modern culture, industrial society, and where art and humanity fits into these structures
but i wont tell them to you
instead i want you to imagine a gnarled plum tree
and on this crooked tree, only one single, almost absurdly large plum grows
the plum is a deep indigo hue, its glossy skin carries the light of the sun, in a gentle arcing stroke down its ripe body
this fruit bearing limb bows, straining against the weight, just barely holding the plum from rot
do you want to eat it?
